


Light from the Lost Land

by raspberryhunter



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper, Welsh Mythology
Genre: Consentfest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberryhunter/pseuds/raspberryhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Gwyddno Garanhir asks whether he should make the crystal sword.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light from the Lost Land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophiagratia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiagratia/gifts).



> For [ConsentFest 2012](http://sophia-gratia.dreamwidth.org/51975.html).
> 
> Thanks to rymenhild for the beta!
> 
> I have, of course, taken great liberties with the Welsh incarnations of these characters.

**I am the womb of every holt.**

"You are the only craftsman to whom I would entrust this, for your skill and your family's long association with the Light," Merlion said. "Will you make the sword?"

Yes, yes, yes! Gwyddno wanted to shout -- he could feel the pattern of it within him, see the crystal sword singing with an inner light. Part of his mind was busy already making the calculations: the strength of the crystal, the configuration of the magic that would cut through the Dark -- he forced himself to put the already half-built structure in his head aside.

He said slowly, "It is not my decision alone, lion. This will affect my family and my people as well."

Merlion inclined his head. "I understand. But I need an answer soon."

Gwyddno said, unsmiling, "You shall have it."

*  
 **I am the blaze on every hill.**

Gwyddno found Arianrhod in the center of her workshop, gazing into what looked, from his vantage point, like a large dark tube, large enough to walk inside.

"Ah, Gwyddno," Arianrhod nodded at him. "Come see this." Walking to where she was, he realized that from her perspective the view was quite different: a curving mirrored tunnel, glinting into the dark, made of what seemed like one continuous circular sheet of glass.

He raised his eyebrows. "That's new, Guildmaster," he said. 

"Yes," Arianrhod agreed. "It's interesting, isn't it? And the magic that locks the shape gives it great strength -- you can punch it, and it won't break, unless the magic itself is keyed to dissolve. I haven't decided what I'll use it for yet. A maze? Perhaps a simple pattern; the mirrors themselves will disorient the maze-travelers quite enough."

"How did you make that?" Gwyddno asked. "How strong is it, precisely?"

Arianrhod plunged into a dense thicket of technical details. Gwyddno listened, admiring. The combination of magic, art, and craftmanship she described was innovative and clever, and something that would take a great deal of careful work. He frowned in sudden thought. "Would this work with a hard crystal?"

Arianrhod cocked a dark eyebrow at him. "For, say, a crystal sword?"

Gwyddno ducked his head. Though he was King, and his mastery was now at least equal to Arianrhod's, he could not shake the memories of being a small apprentice boy when Arianrhod had already been renowned for her architectural creations, and she often made him feel like that small boy. "Yes. I see you have heard of Merlion's request."

"I have," Arianrhod returned, smiling. "A fascinating technical problem, I think. It would be very interesting to design. I will admit to a small amount of jealousy."

"The Dark is displeased," Gwyddno murmured. "They may try to strike back at us."

"Let them," Arianrhod said, with an arrogant tilt to her head. Gwyddno thought, looking at her, that no king nor Old One nor Rider could be as proud. "Let them do their worst, and we will answer them. We are makers. In the end, what can either the Light or the Dark do against us?"

Gwyddno frowned at her. "Have a care, Guildmaster," he warned. "The Dark will make no overt move, I am sure, but they could make us all suffer. All works may break; all life may die."

Arianrhod gave him a dark, fierce smile. "That may be. But we shall create, all the same."

*

**I am the queen of every hive.**

Gwyddno paused in the doorway of the workshop, watching Elphin polish the ring: polish; inspect with loupe; furrow his brow; polish again. Finally, Elphin's face eased into a smile. 

Gywddno cleared his throat, and Elphin looked up, startled. "Ah. Father." He flourished the ring. "You came at an excellent time. It's finally finished! All but the stone setting."

"May I see?" Gwyddno inquired.

"Of course," Elphin said, handing over the ring. Gwyddno studied it closely, finding no flaw in the workmanship; he had expected none. "And here is the stone," Elphin continued, drawing out a small wooden box. He opened it to reveal a large rose-coloured gem, seemingly glowing from within.

Gwyddno inspected the stone, noting its perfect smooth roundness. "You cut this stone?" Gwyddno inquired.

"Of course," Elphin said, laughing up at him. "As if you didn't know, you who taught me everything I know about the lapidary arts."

Gwyddno grinned. Sometimes he wondered how he had gained a son like Elphin: bright and sunny where Gwyddno tended to be inwards-looking and worried. "Elphin, I want to ask you something." He detailed his discussion with Merlion. "The Dark, you know, will not be pleased, and we may all suffer for it."

Elphin said simply, "You are the King. And you are my father, whom I love. And you have always cared for this land, and taught me to do the same. I trust you to do what is best for the land, in the end."

*

**I am the shield for every head.**

Llew handed the shoe to Gwyddno. "There," he said, "try it on."

Gwyddno smiled as it slipped on smoothly. "It's a perfect fit," he said. "I should expect no less from you, of course."

Llew gave a curt nod. "You'll find it to be quite comfortable. As usual."

"I haven't done a lot of leather work," Gwyddno said idly. "I may have to talk to you about that -- there's a scabbard I'm thinking about, as a companion to a sword I may make."

Llew shrugged. "I've heard a bit about it, perhaps. Yes, I could give you some tips on that."

Gwyddno said sharply, "Then have you heard that the Dark desires that I not make this sword? We may all suffer should I do it, and makers more than any. And yet," he continued, a little wistfully, "this is the great work I was born to do, I think."

Llew said gruffly, "I care neither for the Light nor the Dark. I care for my work, and for others' work. And I say that if this work is in you, you must make it. If I let the fear of the Dark keep you from your great work, then I would be no maker at all."

*

**I am the tomb of every hope.**

Gwyddno heard Gwion and the other singers shaping a phrase of song as he approached the stage. "Berries in the time of harvest," half of them sang, and the others replying, "The sun moving in the firmament," the lines of melody intertwining. Gwion nodded, smiling, a motion of his hand cutting off the sound. "Yes, I think you've got it now. I've kept you long enough. Good work, everyone," he said. The other singers smiled back at him and dispersed.

Gwyddno stepped onto the stage as the last singer besides Gwion left. "I like that," Gwyddno said softly. "I shall be quite interested to hear the entire thing."

Gwion grinned. "Yes, a sweet new style, is it not? It's going to be quite lovely, I think." His face grew more serious. "My lord, I was about to come find you myself. I have heard about the crystal sword --"

"Yes," Gwyddno said. "This is what I came to ask you about. What do you think I should do?"

Gwion spread out his hands. "My lord, you know what my answer will be. Merlion has my heart and loyalty, second only to you. Of course I will tell you to make the sword."

"I still must ask," Gwyddno said gently. "Your answer may change, you know, when you think about what the Dark could do. I do not think they could reach us directly, not through the magic of the Land, but they can do many things indirectly. They could even, perhaps, bring the death of our land sooner than it must otherwise come."

Gwion stood absolutely still for just a second. Gwyddno thought he saw a flash of terror in Gwion's eye -- Gwion had always, since he was a small boy, been afraid of drowning, and they all knew the prophecies -- but it was covered swiftly. Gwion shook his head. "I shall abide until the day of doom," he said. 

Gwyddno put his hand on the other man's shoulder. "You are my true liege man. But I do worry about all the people of this land."

"I expect everyone else would say the same as Elphin, and Arianrhod, and Llew have said," Gwion said. "And I."

Gwyddno dropped his hand and looked at Gwion, a flash of dark humor in his eyes. "Would they?" Gwyddno asked. "If I asked every maker in this land, would every one indeed consent to the possibility that the Dark might make them all suffer for what I may do?"

"Why don't you find out?" Gwion said.

Gwyddno smiled, briefly. "I shall."

*

**I am Eirias!**

"Well?" Merlion said. His voice was gentle, but filled with the undertones of urgency. 

"Yes. We of _Cantr'er Gwaelod_ are all united in this, without exception," Gwyddno replied. The King knew that the Dark could not control the Land, and that any effects he imagined were simply in his own mind, and yet the universe seemed to shift around him as he said to Merlion, "I will make the sword."

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Abigail Nussbaum for Llew's line about making.


End file.
